Only Mine
by Lynnwood
Summary: Karg Foerender, a hero of Northrend, has finally returned home to his family farm in the Barrens, eager for peace away from war. But soon a threatening human incursion forces him to take up the fight once more, with some unexpected results.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes and Disclaimers**

This is my first jaunt into the World of Warcraft fanfiction genre. Most of what I know I got from the MMORPG, websites online and other fanfics so I by no means claim to be completely accurate as far as the lore goes. I do try to keep things as 'canon' as I know of, but there's bound to be descrepencies. Just go with it.

Given that the main character of this fic is an orc and I myself am a Horde player, this fic is also a bit Horde-centric, but hopefully not obnoxiously so. This is rated M for a reason; language, violence and a healthy dose of smut. It's essentially a romance story, but I enjoy a bit of plot with my smut so there's somewhat of a story thrown in here somewhere too. The actual sex scenes will be removed from the content posted here due to ff(dot)net's policies. I realize that a number of authors get away with posting their smut up anyway, but I've had my fics removed before for doing so, and I don't feel like having to repost—thereby losing reviews and favs—or worse-case scenario getting banned for violation. Instead I will inform the reader in the body of the fic when scenes have been removed, as well as how you can go about getting access to them.

Also, because I am a goober at heart, there are a number of characters and names of characters sprinkled in throughout this fic that are my own real-game characters or the characters of friends. All have been used with permission.

And finally, all WoW related copyrights belong to Blizzard, not me. Please review if the mood strikes you. I love feedback. Read on an enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Karg Foerender was startled awake by a sudden jostling of the bed he was laying in. For one sleep-fuddled moment he thought he was under attack and almost reached for his weapon—six years at war would drill the reaction into you—but when his mysterious 'attackers' erupted into a firestorm of naughty giggling, he doubted their intentions were deadly. The orc's eyes cracked open instead to see his wildly grinning niece and nephew perched on either side of him.

His nephew Boli, now ten years old, had only been four the last time Karg had seen him. The boy was growing like a briarthorn patch, already tall for his age with no signs of slowing down any time soon. His little niece Veyl was only five, born while Karg been away from home. The little girl stared at him now with wide and curious green eyes—the same shade as her mother—one finger hooked around a tiny tusk and the other hand dragging a well-worn straw doll in her wake. She had yet to actually speak to him, though there didn't seem to be an ounce of fear or shyness in her eyes, as fearless as her mother as well it would seem.

Despite the somewhat rude awakening, Karg couldn't help the wide grin that formed from their impromptu presence. How many nights had he lain awake staring up at the foreign night sky of Northrend dreaming of just such an occurrence? Karg was no coward. When he had been called for duty he'd answered with no hesitation, and had proudly served the Warchief and the armies of the Horde for six long years. But in his heart Karg wasn't a soldier. He was a farmer, as his father had been before him. Though he had become a powerful warrior in his own right, Karg wanted nothing more than to live out the rest of his days on his family's boar farm in peace. To find a mate of his own and have a passel of mischievous, meddling children who would wake him every morning just like this.

"Mornin' Uncle Karg!" Boli cried excitedly. "Can you teach me to shoot today? And later can we ride on Rozi? Papa said we had to ask you first, 'cause he's your wolf. Can we? Can we? Can we?"

Karg just chuckled at that, slowly sitting up and after plucking his niece and setting her on the other side of him, swung his legs over the side of the bed. "We'll see about Rozi after the chores are done," he replied. "As for the shooting, you'll have to get your mother's permission first."

Boli's expression crumpled into petulance at that. "Aw! Mama'll never let me shoot. She says I'm too little."

"You _are _too little," came a new voice. All three of them turned to see the children's' mother—and Karg's younger sister—Dulyna standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her swollen middle and eyeing her eldest offspring with a blandly reprimanding look. "There will be plenty enough time for you to earn strength and honor in battle when you're older. For now, you have chores to do."

"Aw, Ma!"

_"Now, _Boli," Dulyna inserted, tone firming—looking and sounding so much like their own mother for a moment that it brought another grin to Karg's face. "Go gather those eggs like I told you and leave your uncle in peace."

Boli slipped off the bed and left to do as he'd been told, grumbling under his breath the entire way, which one him a playful cuff upside the head from Dulyna as he passed. Then she turned back and held out her hand.

"Come on, Veyl, you too."

Karg ruffled her black pig-tails before the little girl hopped down and scurried over to her mother.

"Sorry about that," she murmured after gently herding Veyl from the room, giving him an apologetic smile. "They're just so excited to see you, is all. Donag and Hegar have filled their heads with all sorts of tales about your war exploits, you've become like a legend to them."

Karg snorted a little at that, but shook his head. "It's no trouble, Dulyna," he assured gruffly. "They're fine. I'm glad to be home." Her smile widened at that, green eyes dancing.

"And we're glad to have you home. Just in time for the butchering," she teased, causing him to chuckle wryly. "Vegnus will be glad for the extra pair of hands," Dulyna continued, speaking of her mate, who had taken over much of the running of the farm after their father had passed two years ago. "You know those worthless brothers of ours will find any excuse under the sun to get out of it. And Veg won't let me within shouting distance of the boars right now," she finished, her expression turning as petulant as Boli's had been.

Karg laughed openly at that, getting to his feet with a grunting stretch before turning back to his frowning sister. "You're due to drop that baby any day now and you want to go out and wrestle with a five-hundred pound boar?" Dulyna huffed indignantly.

"You're as bad as Vegnus."

"You mean I'm as _reasonable _as Vegnus." Karg had to duck to miss getting cuffed upside like Boli had.

"Your breakfast is waiting in mother's hut," she announced, still chuckling, turning from the door. "Veg should be in the butcher's shed waiting for you when you're done."

Karg waved her out, then turned to start getting dressed, forgoing his mail for the first time in years in lieu of a simple pair of leather trousers, well-worn boots and a homespun tunic that wouldn't mind the bloody abuse it was about to take in the butchering shed. He stepped from his own hut, straightening and taking in a deep lungful of the crisp, morning air. Air that was already being split by the raucous laughter of children at play, and the snuffling and squealing of pigs. Karg smiled. It was, indeed, great to be home.

His mother eyed him speculatively as he ate the herb baked eggs, spice bread and roasted boar she'd put in front of him moments later. Though Bekila's topknot of hair had long since turned to iron gray, and there was more than one wrinkle lining her weathered green face, Karg wasn't fool enough to underestimate her in anything, least of all the sharpness of her mind. And he knew that look. His mother had something to say, and he wouldn't be going anywhere until she had it said. Sure enough, Bekila finally spoke up after he'd chewed through his last bite.

"This farm is a far cry from the fields of battle." Karg shot her a look, downing the last of his kodo milk and wiping away the excess with the back of his hand.

"And you think that's a problem?" he scoffed. "I've had my fill of war."

"You're wantin' to settle down proper, then?" she questioned, and he nodded. Her eyes narrowed. "And yet you didn't even glance twice at any of the women from the surrounding farms who came to the feast last night."

Karg frowned in agitation at that, getting to his feet and discarding the dishes into his mother's wash basin out of habit. It was true that a number of the available females from the surrounding farms and clans had come to see the war hero returned. And more than one had been less than subtle in their advances. Just because he hadn't taken more than a passing interest in them, however, didn't mean he was still wanderlusting. He told his mother much the same. The old orc woman merely grunted at him, looking mildly unconvinced at best.

"We will see," was all she replied before turning away. Karg found himself wearing his own petulant frown for a moment, before she turned back to him holding two large bowls filled with bloody scraps from her morning work. "Here, your riding wolf and that other furred demon you keep still need feeding."

Karg sighed, stepping outside to do as he'd been bidden. Winning an argument with his mother didn't happen. Though it had taken a lot of years—and a lot of arguments—for him to accept it, Karg was older and wiser now. He walked out to the stable area, ducking under the kodo-hide canvas and grinning when he saw the state of his riding wolf. Jet black fur with piercing aquamarine eyes, standing at an impressive six and a half feet at the shoulder, powerfully muscled with an intimidating spiked collar around his thick neck, Rozi was currently splayed out on his belly while Boli and Veyl used him as a happily-panting obstacle course. Karg was treated to a happy canine grin and a few thumps of his bushy tail, stirring up a cloud of dust and hay.

"Make sure he gets a chance to have his breakfast," Karg called to the children as he sat one of the bowls inside and glanced to make sure that his water trough was full—which it was. His answer was another loud peal of laughter as Rozi used his massive muzzle to cause Veyl to cheerily tumble down his back. Karg shook his head with a sigh.

"So much for being a bloodthirsty, intimidating war mount."

That was met with a huffing growl of agreement, drawing his gaze to another one of the stalls. Inside, curled up on the hay and watching the proceedings with narrowed and disapproving golden eyes was his hunting companion, Nuka. The 'furred demon,' as his mother so aptly put it. She was a silver-furred saber worg that he'd managed tame in Storm Peaks. Because of that colossal battle of wills Nuka respected and was grudgingly fond of him, but that affection didn't extend to anyone else. At all. She was snarling and aggressive to everyone but Karg, and the female worg held a special level of disgust for the slobberingly affectionate Rozi.

Karg knelt down inside her stall, setting her food down and giving the massive worg a thump or two to the side while she stood and began eating. "Let him have his fun, girl," he murmured softly. "We've all earned this retirement. Even you," Karg chuckled at her second huffing growl around a mouthful of boar chunks. "Even if you'll never admit it. Try not to bite anyone today, by the way, or my mother will make good on that threat to hang your pelt up in the den."

Nuka just kept eating, not looking up from the bowl, but Karg could sense her compliance—if a bit grudging. He patted her side again before getting back to his feet and exiting the stables, heading toward the shed at last. Slaughtering boars wasn't his favorite part of farming by far—it was a hot, messy and smelly job—but it had to get done. Knowing that he rolled up his sleeves before shouldering his way inside the shed. Immediately the thick and sharp, coppery stink of blood and raw flesh hit his nostrils, but Karg was unfazed. Not only had he grown up with this chore, but he'd seen and smelled far worse on the battlefield. Far, far worse.

His sister's mate Vegnus was already inside, carving away at one of the hanging carcasses. The stoic orc just nodded silently to his arrival before going back to work. Karg picked up an extra set of tools and turned to begin skinning another, a skill he had first developed here in this very shed and then later refined near to an art-form on his many travels. He lost track of time, methodically moving from one carcass to another, cutting away and separating the parts for later storage or sale. Neither he nor Vegnus said much, both focused on the task and comfortable in the companionable silence. Yet that was soon broken as the door suddenly banged open and loudly cracked against the opposite wall. Both turned to see Karg's younger brothers, Donag and Hegar—seventeen and fifteen respectively—spilling inside.

"Karg! Vegnus!" Donag, the older of the two, was first to belt out breathlessly. "You'll never guess what we just saw down at the oasis!"

He snorted wryly. "The oasis, eh?" he growled. "Thought you two might get in a bit of fishing before your chores?" Both of the younger orcs had the good graces to look a little shamefaced at that. Karg turned back to the carcass he was cleaning, shaking his head. "You're both lucky you didn't end up on a Kolkar spit. So who wants to be the one to tell Ma you've been out to the Forgotten Pools after she told you that the next time you two lugheads went there after she told you not to, that she was going to scalp you?"

Vegnus let out an amused grunt at that, though he didn't turn from his own work. "I'd pay to see that one," he murmured low.

"Can we not focus on why we were at the Pools," Donag cut in exasperatedly, "and focus on _what _we saw there?"

"Let me guess," Karg inserted blandly. "Centaurs." Donag gave him a sullen look.

"Try _humans."_

That got his attention, finally. Even Vegnus froze, and both older orcs turned to the younger, suddenly all business.

"What do you mean, you saw humans?" Karg demanded. "How many?"

"A whole pack of them," Hegar cut in hurriedly. "At least twenty or thirty, maybe more. Heading south by the look of it."

"A raid on the Crossroads?" Vegnus wondered aloud, glancing worriedly in his direction. "Maybe from Ashenvale?"

"Maybe," he rumbled, uncertain, stepping out of the shed. The other three followed after. "But why bother to head so far south?" he continued to muse. "The northern forest has the natural resources they're after, not the Barrens."

Karg glared at the horizon beyond, as if he might spot the interlopers even now.

"Someone should alert the Crossroads," Donag announced firmly. "If the humans are planning to raid, the guards need to be ready for it."

"You're right," he agreed after another silent moment, turning to the two younger boys with one eyebrow lifted. "But who would volunteer for such a dangerous mission?" Donag and Hegar almost fell over each other in their eagerness, nearly hopping in place and trying to shout over each other. Karg felt a smile threaten despite the severity of the situation. "Alright, alright. Both of you go and pack yourselves a change of clothes, your cutting axes and have mother give you enough rations to last you four days."

They took off toward their mother's hut at a dead run. Vegnus crossed his arms, expression drawn. "Do you think it's wise to send those two crazy pups out to the Crossroads alone?" Karg sighed.

"Better the Crossroads than sneaking off to try and track the party of humans on their own, which is damn well where they'd go if I didn't send them somewhere, and you know it." Vegnus didn't dispute that, just shaking his head.

"Better it be you that does that, I suppose." There was no question in his tone, but it was there in Vegnus' eyes just the same as they considered the younger orc beside him. Karg's own expression of grim determination never wavered.

"I came home to get away from the war," he murmured. "I've had my bellyful of bloodshed and death. But a pack of humans traipsing around unchecked in my backyard isn't something I'm willing to overlook, in any circumstance." He started toward his own hut, and Vegnus fell into step. "Send word to the other farms, tell everyone to keep close to their homes for now. Donag and Hegar should be two days to the Crossroads, two days back. Make sure they stay home after that, tie them to their beds if you have to."

"What about you?" Karg sighed.

"I'll scout them out, try to see what they're up to, where they're headed. I'll send word when I can."

With that he ducked into his hut, already shedding the clothes he'd been wearing along the way. The relative carefree calm he'd started to feel melted away, replaced with the razor-edged battle-readiness he'd worn for so long, it was almost like a second skin. Inwardly, a part of him began to fear that his mother was right—that he'd never be able to truly leave this part of himself behind. But that was a worry for another time.

Instead Karg quickly cleaned the pig blood from himself using a rag and the wash basin nearby. Then he hurriedly dressed in his battle mail, the armor engraved and enchanted with powerful runes that only enhanced his already impressive prowess. Next his gun, a deadly long-range affair only further enhanced by a quirky troll engineer he'd met in Dalaran. He snatched up his pack, then stepped back outside. He found his mother and sister waiting for him, Boli and Veyl standing near. Both stared at him now with wide eyes, fascinated by this sudden and fierce change that had come over the uncle they barely knew. His mother merely met his stare silently for a moment, then gave a small nod. Dulyna reached up to tighten the leather straps of his shoulder guard, expression caught somewhere between pride and worry.

_"Lok'tar,_ brother," she murmured gruffly. "Be safe."

Karg just smiled, and if the expression was a little tight and forced, they both ignored it. "Always."

With that he stepped into the stable. Nuka was already standing in the aisle waiting for him, tensed and alert, having sensed his agitation. Karg stepped into Rozi's stall and made quick work of fitting the massive wolf with his saddle and bridle, strapping his packs down as well. Then he hefted himself up onto his back, the movements fluid with years of practice. "Alright you two," he murmured, pressing his heels into Rozi's flanks. "Let's go hunting."

The massive black wolf lunged forward and took off out of the stable at a dead run, Karg ducking low on his back to avoid the archway. Nuka, as always, was right on his heels.

* * *

><p>Hours later Karg pulled Rozi's loping stride to a halt deep within the jungle-like oasis that surrounded the Forgotten Pools. He quickly dismounted and then slowly approached the corpse he'd come across, Nuka at his side. He knelt down, sharp gaze roving with a practiced eye over the wounds that covered the now very dead Kolkar centaur. Most telling were the three arrows that protruded from his horse-flank. Idly Karg reached out and snapped off the end of one of the feathered shafts, holding it up and absently twirling it between two fingers. The fletching was dyed a very telling blue and gold.<p>

"The colors of Stormwind," he murmured to himself. Nuka sniffed a little at the corpse, then growled low, the fur on her hackles rising with her displeasure and agitation. "You smell them, too." Karg studied the trampled vegetation surrounding the body, brow furrowed in concentration. "And not just a few trouble-seekers, either. They are here in force, in direct violation to Theramore's treaty. Arrogant, conniving bastards," he growled, tossing the broken arrow from him in disgust. A part of him had hoped that Donag and Hegar had exaggerated the human's numbers, but unfortunately not. From the looks of things they also had a number of mounts and pack animals as well. Evidently the humans had come south from Ashenvale, somehow managing to avoid detection at the Mor'Shan Base Camp along the way. They were continuing south, but to where? And why?

Before Karg had a chance to puzzle things further, Nuka stiffened at his side and whirled. His gun was in his hands and trained in the direction she'd turned in the next breath, just in time to see two plate-armored humans break through the undergrowth. For an instant everyone froze, and then in the next all hell broke loose.

"Nuka, go!" he snarled, and the saber worg launched herself at one of the hapless humans immediately with a snarl of fury. Karg fired off a shot at the other one, gaining his undivided attention. The guard charged him immediately, sword raised, thinking to hack down the lone orc who had remained in a fairly vulnerable kneeling position. But right at the last moment Karg tossed out one of his enchanted traps right in the human's path. His booted foot tripped the wires, and in the next breath he was frozen solid, an expression of shocked fear on his face.

Ignoring him for now, Karg quickly gained his feet and then turned to where Nuka was battling with the other human. Her white fur was matted here or there in spots of crimson where the human's sword had managed to get in a few lucky blows, but the human himself was in much worse shape. One arm was hanging uselessly at his side, a bloody, mangled mess. It also looked as though she'd managed to take a nice sized chunk out of his flank as well, the metal of his armor twisted and punctured from her powerful jaws and massive fangs, stained red with gore. Using the distraction Karg shouldered his rifle, took aim, and then blew a hole through the unsuspecting human's skull. The body crumpled to the ground immediately afterward.

After giving Nuka a quick once-over and assuring himself that her injuries were minor, Karg turned back to the other human. "Grab him," he growled, and Nuka pounced forward on command. Her powerful lunge sent the human to the ground, breaking the freezing enchantment he'd been under. Before he was able to take advantage of that, however, he found a pair of massive worg jaws locked around his throat and pinning him securely, and painfully, in place. Karg ignored the human's gasping and choking, stepping forward and kneeling down once again. He met the man's widened eyes, his own narrowed and cold.

"Why have your people invaded the Barrens?" he demanded in the human's tongue. "What are you after?" A moment went by, with no answer from the human other than thrashing about somewhat uselessly and attempting to force Nuka's jaws to release him without success. Karg scowled deeper. "Answer me, human scum, or the last thing you see in this life will be my worg eating your jugular."

"To hell with you, orc," the human spat up at him hatefully. "Kill me, if you've got the guts. It makes no difference. You cannot stop us!"

"Stop you from _what?" _he demanded in a snarl.

A moment too late, Karg heard a commotion behind him. He didn't get a chance to turn before he felt something slam into his back, and then fiery agony lit in its wake.

"Rozi!" he yelled, and just managed to lift up enough through the pain to grab onto the harness as his massive riding wolf thundered past. Nuka released the human and followed immediately as Rozi took off into the brush, leaving what sounded like an entire troop of humans shouting in their wake. Karg grit his teeth through the pain, hauling himself up into the saddle. Each one of Rozi's loping strides was sending shards of absolute agony through his whole body. A fevered glance downward revealed the massive crossbow bolt protruding through his side, just above his hip. From his knowledge of ammunition he knew it was barbed, as well. Impossible to remove without tools and a healer on hand unless he wanted half of his innards to come out with it.

Karg and Rozi led the humans on a merry chase through the oasis jungle for an hour or more, but it soon became apparent to the orc that he wouldn't be losing his pursuers, not in his condition. If he tried to make a run for the Crossroads, he would become far too easy of a target on the flat open plains. And there was no way in hell he could win a direct fight against so many either, not wounded as he was. The alternative was grim, but Karg didn't fear death. He would face it with dignity. He only mourned for the future—for the mate and children—he'd not been given the chance to know.

He reined Rozi to a halt, then carefully slid out of the saddle, grunting in pain when his boots hit the ground with a jarring thump. Karg turned the wolf in the direction of home, and then gave him a gentle shove.

"Go home, Rozi. Home." The wolf turned back to him in confusion, letting out a faint whine. "Home, now!" he snarled louder, delivering a sharp slap to his rump. That caused the big wolf to yelp in confusion, but lunge off into the overgrowth as he'd meant. Then he turned to Nuka, who stood watching him with her eerie glowing eyes. "You too, girl," he grunted, holding back his emotions with an iron will. "Go back to the farm. My family will make certain you are well cared for."

The saber worg just stared at him, clearly unimpressed with his bluster. Karg gritted his teeth, especially as he could hear the sounds of the humans approaching fast. If he had to die, so be it. Rozi and Nuka would not share that fate, however, not if he could help it.

"I dismiss you," Karg hissed through clenched teeth, and Nuka tensed when he suddenly pulled up his rifle and sighted it directly at her. "Be gone from my sight!" When still she hesitated, Karg closed his eyes for a brief moment of pain. _Forgive me, my friend._ And then he fired off a shot, landing inches from her front paw.

Nuka leapt back with a startled yelp, then hunkered down with a snarl. A moment later and the large white worg leapt away into the brush and disappeared.

Karg hit his knees then, his gun falling from his suddenly nerveless fingers. His head swam, the loss of blood beginning to take its toll, everything growing cold and his vision dark. In moments he was surrounded on all sides by human soldiers, all pointing swords or crossbows. The one Nuka had pinned stepped forward grinning nastily, and beside him stood another human male, this one dressed in armor that was higher in quality than that of his fellows. Their leader, then. The bearded blond warrior stared down at him with cold, steel-colored eyes, nothing but disgust and contempt in their depths.

"Good," the officer murmured, "it's still alive."

"Not for long," the other one hissed, reaching for his sword, but halted at a gesture from his superior.

"Not yet, Kollins. I need to know what it knows. More importantly, I need to know who or what else knows about our presence here." He sneered. "Truss it up. We'll take the greenskin with us to Northwatch. We'll be able to question it more . . . _thoroughly_ once we arrive."

Growling, Karg made one last ditch effort to gain his feet and lunge at the bearded warrior. Unfortunately before he could move more than a few inches, something heavy cracked him in the back of the skull, and everything went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Mara Steele heaved a sigh, leaning against the cool stone of the sill and gazing out through the window of the room she'd been given at the bustling sea-side fort below. Northwatch Hold, crouched along the shores of Kalimdor, was a far clip from her home in Stormwind City. And right at that moment Mara felt the differences—and her own bleak homesickness—most poignantly.

She was the daughter and youngest child of Count Gregor Steele, who was an accomplished warrior and well-respected member of Stormwind's House of Nobles. Her older brother Alec had followed proudly in his father's footsteps, making quite a name for himself on the distant shores of Northrend and steadily climbing the ranks in Stormwind's armies as a result. In contrast Mara had done nothing but disappoint her father and fall woefully short of the family name's lofty expectations from the moment of birth—starting with the unforgivable sin of said event resulting in her mother's death. Something she doubted her father would ever forgive her for.

He had been struggling for years to find something useful and worthwhile for her to accomplish, with little success. Mara was beyond plain in looks and social grace, so the chances of her marrying 'up' and advancing the family name in that way were slim to none. She had no aptitude for the arcane arts, so magic studies were out. She had even less skill in martial combat, so warrior training was out, too. At a loss for anything else to do with her, her father had finally foisted her off onto the priests in the Cathedral of Light. While Mara had come to enjoy the quiet solitude that life in the church afforded her, she wasn't exactly the most pious of individuals either. Thus—while she mostly succeeded in her studies—she never really excelled at them either. With a lackluster graduation into the ranks of the priesthood of Light, her father had then decided that she needed some real, hands-on training in the field to refine her skills. So when her brother—fresh from his triumphant return in Northrend—had been sent to Northwatch Hold a few weeks ago, Mara got sent along with him to bolster their healing ranks. Whether she liked it or not.

Mara snorted now, glaring absently at the proceedings below. _Likely he hopes I'll get killed out here and then he'll finally be rid of the embarrassment. _It still hurt to acknowledge that ugly truth, even though she'd had years to get used to the idea, and she winced.

Her attention was suddenly pulled from her own melancholy by a sudden commotion below. Mara straightened, peering closer, and gasped as she realized that her brother and his scouting party had returned from their trip into Ashenvale. And what's more, it also appeared as though they had a prisoner in tow. She couldn't discern much about it from such a distance other than the fact that it looked male and that the hue of his olive-green skin hinted that it was an orc. He was draped rather inelegantly across the back of a draft horse, tied hands and feet beneath the beast's belly to prevent escape. Streaks of dried blood caked the horse's fur and tack, visible even from such a distance, and she began to think it would be a small miracle if the poor man was even still alive. Inwardly Mara winced.

Curiosity being one of her biggest flaws—along with very pale skin that far too easily easily betrayed a blush—Mara hurriedly turned from her window then and set about getting dressed, wanting to be present down below when the entourage entered the hall. Hopefully to catch a closer glimpse of this captive and learn the reasoning behind it. She tossed off her nightgown—the fine mageweave ending up in an ungracious pile at the foot of her bed—hurriedly struggling into her undergarments and then the heavy white and silver robes of her profession. Somewhat breathless after her fight with the suffocatingly thick fabric and frustrating laces, Mara hopped on one foot and then the other as she slipped into her leather, laced sandals. And then she was scooping up the heavy fall of her dark blond hair, twisting and coiling it into a haphazard bun at the back of her head. A few long pins jabbed into key areas kept the mass in place. She scooped up her plain acolyte's staff on the way out the door almost as an afterthought.

She hurried down the stairs of the eastern tower and then into the main hall just in time to see Alec and his men enter. Two of them held the orc captive between them, each with a hold on one of his massive arms. They were forced to carry him along, his legs dragging the floor uselessly, as the orc was either unconscious or too weak to support his own weight. As his head was lolled forward onto his chest and moved bonelessly with each step of the guards, she was leaning toward the former. Mara came to stand behind and off to the side of the woman perched at attention at the back of the hall. Of whom her brother and the men now approached and saluted respectfully. Though Alec was technically of higher rank within the armies of Stormwind, Northwatch itself was under direct command of Theramore and Lady Jaina Proudmoore, not King Varian Wrynn. Therefore certain protocols had to be observed.

The female officer herself was dressed in resplendent silver armor and the white tabard tooled in gold with the anchor emblem of Theramore, her silver hair swept back regally. Captain Fairmount acknowledged her brother's entrance coolly and then turned a disgusted sneer to their captive.

"Is there a reason why you're dragging one of those . . . _things_ into my halls, Commander Steele?" she called. "It's bleeding all over my floors."

Alec sighed, pulling off his plumed helm and handing it off to a squire who had scurried up to attend him. "This orc came upon two of our scouts while we were moving through an oasis," he explained. "He killed one, almost killed another. His training and superior equipment suggests that he's more than just a common grunt among the Horde's ranks. It's vital I find out what he knows about our future operations here in the Barrens, and more importantly who he might have tipped off about them before we captured him."

Captain Fairmount sighed. "Very well, take it below and put it in one of the iron cages."

"If you don't have someone see to that wound of his, the only thing you're going to be interrogating is a corpse."

Everyone in the room turned to Mara at her sudden outburst. She swallowed, feeling her face heat up with discomfort at suddenly being the center of attention—a position she was never particularly comfortable with in any circumstance.

"Mistress Steele," the Captain murmured in faintly bemused greeting. "I hadn't realized that you'd joined us."

"Mara," Alec called, the warning in his tone and suddenly thunderous expression. She pressed on despite it, however.

"How long has he had that wound without treatment?" she demanded, then answered herself after waiting a beat. "A week or more by the look of it. You're lucky he isn't already dead weight."

"So you want to just bandage it up, do you?" one of her brother's men suddenly demanded, lip curled in disgust. She recognized the soldier from the trip out here, Lieutenant Bale Kollins. A particularly mean-tempered man who had taken a fierce dislike of her after she'd had the audacity to turn down his rather boorish advances. "What are you," he sneered then, "some kind've orc-lover?"

Dark mutterings lit up the hall at that, and Mara blanched. Being accused of sympathizing with the Horde or any of its people was a serious offense in Stormwind. It wasn't uncommon for those who did so to suddenly disappear from the city soon after their traitorous rumblings began, never to be seen or heard from again. In actuality, Mara didn't think of herself as a Horde sympathizer, though. She just wasn't completely and unrelentingly prejudiced against them, either.

Before Mara could think of a way to respond to Kollins, her brother turned to glare over his shoulder at the soldier, who immediately backed down. Apparently he'd remembered a little too late that the woman he'd just blatantly insulted was the younger sister of his superior. _"That will be all,_ Lieutenant," Alec snapped coldly. Flushing, Kollins immediately turned on his heel and quit the hall.

"Well, Commander," Fairmount suddenly called, bringing the attention away from Kollins' uncomfortable exit, "your sister _is _the most qualified among us." The silver-haired officer turned to Mara, eyebrow lifted. "You believe he'll die without treatment?"

Mara nodded. "It's a small wonder that he hasn't already, Captain," she confirmed. The other woman turned back to her now-frowning brother.

"It wouldn't do for all your well-laid plans of interrogation to get ruined by the orc dying too quickly. Let your sister patch him up. Then when he's stable, you can begin your questioning."

Though clearly not happy with this decision, it was still Fairmount's keep, not his. Therefore Alec bowed slightly in acquiescence, then motioned for Mara to follow him as he led the way out of the hall. Most of the soldiers peeled away to return to the barracks afterward, only the two that carried the orc remained with them. They started down the stairs leading to the dungeons first. Mara would have followed, but a hand suddenly curling around her upper arm halted her progress. She turned back to see Alec frowning down at her fiercely.

"Careful, little sister," he muttered. "That beast is the enemy, you would do well to remember that."

_"That_ _beast _is still a sentient creature, Alec," she snapped back, "enemy or not! From what I heard, the only thing he's guilty of is trying to protect his home and country—no different than any of us would have done in his position—and in return you're all treating him as less than an animal!"

Alec just shook his head, unmoved by her outburst. "You always were a soft touch, Mara. You need to cure yourself of it, or that naivety of yours will get you killed out here. If given free rein that _sentient creature _you're so eager to protect would rape you blind and then snap your neck afterward without an ounce of remorse or pity. Trust me," he finished darkly. "I've seen it."

"The Defias Brotherhood are guilty of similar acts," she shot back stubbornly, "even worse. Does that mean others should condemn our entire race for the actions of a depraved few?" Alec just rolled his eyes at that, shaking his head.

"Let's leave the traitorous political discussions for later, shall we?" he muttered blandly. "For now, just get that orc well enough to talk. I need to know what he knows, the sooner the better." His steel colored eyes turned troubled, and Mara bit her lip in response. "He could jeopardize our entire mission."

What that mission was exactly, Alec nor anyone else had seen fit to completely divulge to her as yet. She had eyes and ears, however, and a few strong suspicions because of it. For the moment, though, Mara had more pressing matters than puzzling over her brother's motives in the Barrens. To that end she pulled free of her brother's hold and started down the stairs after the others. Alec wasn't far behind.

At the base Mara had to pause a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darker atmosphere. She tried not to study the iron cages, manacles, racks and other implements of various torture too closely, instead focusing her entire self onto her newest patient. The soldiers had lifted him up and spread him out onto his back on one of the wooden tables, and were now working to lock his hands and ankles into the cuffs.

"Is that entirely necessary?" she demanded, causing the men to hesitate and look in her direction in uncertainty.

"Yes, it is," Alec answered blandly from behind. He'd taken up position on the far wall, leaning one shoulder against it and watching her with brooding eyes. "Unless you want the beast to fly up off that table and snap you in half as soon as you touch the barb in his gut."

Mara grit her teeth at that, but didn't answer. She waited until they were done securing him instead, then stepped forward to get a closer look. The orc lay frightfully still, head turned to one side and eyes closed. If not for the subtle movement of his great chest from his breathing, she would have suspected him already dead. She carefully peeled back what remained of his tunic on one side, grimacing a little at how it had become plastered to his flesh from his own dried blood. Then she bit her lip. A barbed crossbow bolt. She would have to cut him open to remove it safely, only healing him afterwards. Anything else only guaranteed greater injury.

"Alright then," she heaved, attempting to sound calm and confident when in reality she was close to fighting off a nervous panic. She wasn't incredibly skilled in her field, after all. Mediocre at best. Novice and mid-ranking spells, sure. Surgery? That was something else entirely. She did her best not to let her trepidation show, however. "I'll need a very sharp knife," she announced, "some bandages, hot water, some crushed peacebloom and a lot more light. A couple of healing potions wouldn't be remiss, either. You'll find most of that in my pack in the tower upstairs."

One of the soldiers snorted. "You want to waste a perfectly good healing potion on a greenskin?" Mara frowned.

"I didn't ask for your _commentary,_ sir. Just do as I asked."

Gallingly the man glanced at her brother before he moved. Alec only hesitated a moment before he nodded, prompting both men to hasten back out of the dungeon on their errands. While she waited, Mara set about removing the orc's now thoroughly ruined tunic, which was made quite complicated given that they'd chained him down to the table. After a moment or two of futile struggling, a red-faced Mara lifted up to shoot her now faintly grinning older brother a venomous glare.

"You know, you could come over here and _help _me rather than standing over there smirking like a loon."

"I could," he agreed easily. But didn't move. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

_"Alec!"_

He sighed again at that, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and looking terribly set upon, but finally pushed himself away from the wall and neared. He reached out to take two fist-full's of the orc's faded tunic, but Mara caught one of his forearms before he could tense.

"Carefully," she admonished sternly, winning her another glare. "Unless you want to risk more damage than you've already caused by carting him across the Barrens like a sack of grain, that is."

"Shall I cosset him up in a wool blanket after I'm done?" he snapped testily. Despite his rancor, Alec adjusted his hold and gave a much more controlled tug than he'd originally planned. The linen garment—already sorely abused—shredded easily under her brother's superior strength, until the front was rent open completely from neck to hem. Alec tossed the two ends wide, completely exposing the orc's powerful torso.

"Satisfied?" he questioned and Mara just lifted her chin, rolling up the sleeves of her robes.

"That will do for now, thank you." Despite the tense situation, she couldn't help a slight smile at the way he bent at the waist at that, giving her a sarcastic bow.

A moment later and the two guards returned with her requested items, then stood back with Alec and watched with varying expressions of curiosity as she got to work. Mara made sure the extra torches they'd brought gave her sufficient light, then made use of the water first, scrubbing down her hands and the blade she intended to use as best she could. Her healing spell would counteract most disease and infection if all went well, but it never hurt to be cautious.

Afterward Mara returned to the orc's side. She took the crushed peacebloom and—after mixing in a little water to create a paste—carefully smoothed the mixture in and around the wound. It would numb his flesh to an extent, the best she could do for him in these circumstances. When that was done, and after a deep, bracing breath, she finally put the blade to his flesh and carefully began opening the skin surrounding the thick wooden shaft embedded there. Despite the peacebloom and even unconscious and insensible the orc immediately jerked and tried to twist away from her, an agonized groan tearing out of his chest. Mara wrenched a little, watching with baited breath as the orc's impossibly powerful arms pulled at his bonds. The wood that the manacles were bolted to creaked dangerously, but held. Suddenly Alec's quip about the pain-riddled orc snapping her in half held much more weight than it had before.

Mara forced herself to block out the orc's pain and completely focus on the task in front of her instead. A strange sort of calm overtook her while she worked. This new Mara cut away at the raw and deadened flesh, mopping away the excess blood that flowed with wadded up linen bandages, slowly and carefully revealing the deadly barbed arrowhead lodged within him. Meanwhile any part of her not engaged in this bloody event was mentally pacing back and forth, wringing her hands and dissolving into a hysterical mess.

Mara lost all track of time, utterly focused as she was on doing things right—or as right as she knew how, anyway. By the time she finally pulled the wicked arrowhead completely free from the orc's ravaged flesh the torches were guttering low and she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She set the thing aside, soon to be forgotten, and turned back to the orc. His olive-colored skin had grown an even more sickly shade, his breathing dangerously shallow. Mara bit her lip, then closed her eyes and forced herself to concentrate. Bringing the spells to mind, she carefully laid her hands over the wound in the orc's flank, heedless of the blood.

Her lips moved soundlessly as she chanted, calling upon her ties to the Light, tenuous though they may be. Even still she was filled with a rush of power and strength, calm and serenity—as only the touch of the Light could bring. Though her eyes were closed, Mara could still sense the sudden brightening of the room and knew from experience that the luminescence was coming from her. From the Light, working through her, as she called upon the strongest healing spell she had at her disposal.

A moment later and the light faded. Mara slumped a little where she stood, her knees suddenly wobbly and weak. She forced her aching muscles to straighten however, and her eyes to reopen in order to survey the results of her labor.

The orc lay as still as he had before, but his color had vastly improved. His breathing, as well, was stronger, steadier. More than that the flesh of his wound had closed over, completely healed, leaving only a pale white scar in its wake.

"It's done," she announced needlessly, even her tone somewhat sluggish and worn. "He should recover fully."

"Very well then," Alec murmured, coming away from the wall once more. He glanced at one of the soldiers who had remained. "Put him in one of the cages, and have someone stand watch. Notify me the moment he wakes up."

Mara had frowned long before he was through. "Alec, you can't just—," She was interrupted when he stepped forward and caught her by the elbow, turning her away and leading her back toward the stairs. As weak as a newborn kitten after her ordeal, there was little she could do but stumble somewhat after him.

"Your part in this is over, little sister," he admonished sternly, though not unkindly. "Go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up, and rest for the remainder of the day. I know you nearly put yourself into a coma with that spell," he muttered the last darkly, half under his breath.

"Alec, what is it you hope to gain out of that orc?" she demanded softly as they entered back into the main of the fort, and he steered her toward the stairs that would take her to her borrowed chambers. She stared up at her older brother, who's expression had become shuttered and blank. "What are we doing out here? And why are we risking all-out war with the Horde to do it?"

Alec just shook his head, his silvery eyes guarded. "Later," was all he replied with, stopping at the base of the stairs and giving her a gentle push forward. "Go on, Mara. I'll see you at supper." He started to turn away, but changed his mind at the last minute and met her troubled gaze squarely. "And for the love of the Light, little sister, put that orc out of your mind and _stay out of it." _

And then he was striding away, leaving Mara to stare after him, even more confused and troubled than she had been before.


End file.
